


Oh, if the sky comes falling down

by plastic_swinebones_and_lead207



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Codependency, Double archivists au, Elias being a bastard, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, JonSasha friendship hours, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added as I progress, No beta we kayak like Tim, No romantic relationships yet, Sibling hours?, They become archival Breekon & Hope but siblingbond, This is mostly just for fun, but i don't plan on killing main characters, but not as much as canon!, but still, it's the magnus archives; some people are going to die, less trauma, might be later, or well, spoilers for ep 160, which is like saying it's not as hot as the sun, will be some trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastic_swinebones_and_lead207/pseuds/plastic_swinebones_and_lead207
Summary: Jon and Sasha take turns recording statements. Like seemingly everything else in the Magnus Institute, this has unforseen consequences as the two of them together take up the mantle of archivist.Or: I hopped on the double archivists bandwagon.
Relationships: Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, archives gang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	1. First steps

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! this is my first TMA fanfic! I hope you'll enjoy, please comment if you do! <3

”Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in possession of an apparently empty wooden casket. Original statement given november twenty-second, 1988. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.” Jon takes a breath. His vision has started to scintillate. Fantastic.

”Statement begins.” Maybe he'll be in luck and not get a migraine.

”It started when I was in Amsterdam for a holiday with a few of my friends. Everything you’re thinking right now, you’re right. We were all early twenties, just graduated and decided to spend a couple of weeks going crazy on the continent, so you can almost certainly fill in all the blanks yourself. There were very few points where I’d say that I was entirely sober and even fewer where I acted like it, though I wasn’t quite as bad as some of my friends who had a hard time handling themselves at times.” This was not working out. The left side of his head had started to throb. He paused the recording with a sigh

”Hey, Sasha?” he calls, standing up and walking out of his office.

”Yeah?”

”I've got a migraine, so I'll be out of commission for the next couple of hours, could you record this statement?” She winces in sympathy.

”Sure thing. You have painkillers?”

”Yeah. Thank you, Sasha.” He heads to the breakroom to lie on the couch.

”Ooh, by the way, can I be second archivist in command?” Sasha asks from the doorway.

”Sure,” Jon says with a smile.

”Statement ends.”

”Well Jon will be glad to hear that his hometown is not entirely devoid of eerie stories and odd occurrences. But whilst Mr Gillespie's statement is fascinating, it starts with drug use and continues with a central theme of no corroborating witnesses. This 'John' figure finding Mr Gillespie and knowing his name can be attributed to simple stalking. Even the sounds the coffin made could have been a battery-driven radio player, or simply a hallucination of Mr Gillespie's. It is not unheard of for users of marijuana to experience hallucinations long after they last took it. The nightmares and sleepwalking could also be the result of stress, and with no corroborating witnesses, it's entirely possible that Mr Gillespie is making it up.” Sasha pauses.

”It looks like when the institute first investigated, they were unable to find a single piece of supporting evidence of the existence of this scratched coffin, and neither Jon nor I thought it worth wasting anyone's time over, nearly twenty years later. He did, however, mention it to Tim, who appears to have done some digging on his own. Breekon and Hope did, in fact, exist and were a courier service operating until 2009, when they went into liquidation. They were however based significantly north, in Nottingham, and their records, if they kept them, are no longer available.”

”What is interesting is the address Mr Gillespie provided for his flat. The housing association that ran it keep extensive records on their tenants, going back some four or five decades. From what Tim could find it appears that for the two years of his residence, Mr Gillespie was alone in the entire building, the seven other flats being vacant. Nobody moved in following his departure and the building was sold to a developer and demolished shortly after this statement was given.”

”Despite Tim's best efforts, we could get no explanation for why, in a building of that size, Mr Gillespie spent two years living alone, save for an old wooden coffin.”

”Recording ends.”

They decide to take turn recording the statements that refuse to record to a computer after that, though they collaborate on recording the notes. Those statements are exhausting and neither feel like they can take more than one a week. So each week they record two of the 'difficult' statements, as they've begun calling them. They write summaries, noting all names and seemingly important information which they keep in the digital archive. Jon keeps notes in a notebook, which he plans to turn into a catalogue. When they have more of them recorded and transcribed they'll probably start organizing them after theme, but for now, chronological order will be enough.

”Did you manage to find any records of Ex Altiora,” Jon asks Sasha whilst sorting through a box of statements. She shakes her head.

”Nothing. Weird, isn't it? All other Leitners have been custom editions of known texts,” she replies.

”Worrying too.”

”Yeah. You'll bring it up with Elias?”

”Definitely. Leitner has done enough harm.” Jon tries not to think of a teenager grabbed by a monstrous spider. He has found no records of that book in existing catalogues either, though he can't say he's searched for it.

”Anyway, how is Ms Patel's statement going?” Sasha interrupts his thoughts.

”Oh, it's going well, I'll record it after lunch.”

”Sounds good,” She pauses and narrows her eyes, ”Wait, lunch? Who are you and what have you done to Jon?”

”Very funny Sasha. I've only missed lunch thrice since starting this job.”

”That's still not great.”

Sasha is sitting in front of her computer, reading the police files related to Mr Woodward's statement.

”Sasha, I think we have a sighting of Prentiss,” Jon says to her.

”Prentiss? Where?” He shows her a passage of the statement he's reading, which Sasha reads.

”And Mr Hodge slept with this Ms Lee. Have you notified ECDC?”

”Am about to. How's the Woodward case?”

”Oh, it's going well. Details are for once easily verifiable.”

”Love it when that happens. Well, I'll see you later.” He waves at her as he leaves.

”Oh, and Jon?” He stops and turns to her. ”I was going to staple statement files because I've gotten fed up with them refusing to stay together. That sound good?”

”Oh, brilliant idea. You're a life-saver, Sasha.” She smiles.

”Gertrude, with all due respect, why is your organization like this?” Sasha asks with despair in her voice.

”What's the problem?” Jon asks.

”Lensik's statement. The priest gave his own statement about the events, but I can't find it.” She throws her hands up in defeat.

”Considering I found a statement from 1922 in a box labelled 'mid-2000's' a couple of days ago, I wish you the very best of luck. God knows what Gertrude was thinking” Sasha goes to her desk and sits down.

”Did you ever talk to her?”

”I met her, but I never really spoke to her. You?” Jon takes a seat across from her.

”Spoke with her a couple of times. She was sharp, you know. Stone cold.”

”You think she did it on purpose?”

”Yeah, but I don't get why.”

”Me neither.” Sasha rises from her chair and heads to the breakroom.

”Lunch?”

”Sounds great.” Jon follows.

”Martin found an interesting article relating to the Lensik case,” Sasha says over their lunches, githeri for Sasha and onion rasam with lemon rice for Jon.

”And are you going to  _ share _ the contents of this article with me?” She pauses in mock consideration.

”Hmm, yes. A woman named Agnes Montague was found dead, having hung herself, the same day that Mr Lensik uprooted the tree.”

”You think it could be the same Agnes?”

”Well the timeline doesn't match up. Agnes Montague was twenty-six years old when she died. But, and this is interesting, tied to her waist by a chain was a human right hand.” She takes a bite of her githeri.

”And Mr Fielding's corpse was missing its right hand,” Jon continues. She nods.

”And even weirder, according to the coroner, judging by its decay, the hand was severed at the same time Ms Montague died.”

”That is odd.”

And like that they continue, recording statements, both those that record to a computer and those that need tape, and doing follow up where possible. They get through the statements of a Ms Julia Montauk, Mr Trevor Herbert, Mr 'Antonio Blake', who used a false name, and one Ms Lesere Saraki. Then comes January thirteen, when Natalie Ennis walks into the archives carrying a stone from an empty graveyard. As Sasha is more personable than Jon, she is the one who takes Ms Ennis' statement.

”Oh, this is ridiculous! I can't believe I've wasted my time with this!” Ms Ennis storms out of the archives, as 'more personable than Jon' does not mean personable.

”I take it went well?” Jon asks Sasha with a grin. She glares at him.

”I don't get it! I told her her trauma was valid, that we would investigate and suggested she leave the stone with us and seek professional care. That's what you're supposed to do!” Jon fights down a smile and takes a seat in one of the chairs.

”Well let's get transcribing, and then we'll do the follow-up.”

”Yeah. And we'll get the stone to artefact storage.”

In his office, the man who's eyes peer from the eye-sockets of Elias Bouchard watches the discussion between Jon and Sasha. Their recording of true statements together has caused them both to start on the path to becoming the archivist. It's interesting, to say the least. He had planned for Jon to be the archivist, and gain the marks needed, but the idea of two archivists in the same place and time intrigues him. And, if the two of them fail to gain the marks, it's not that big a deal. He has all the time he needs. So he'll let this be a study over what happens, and worry about his crown later.


	2. A furthering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew progress through two more months.

For some reason Sasha, Martin and Tim have decided to throw Jon a birthday party. It's a bit stilted. Jon has never been good at social interactions, though he supposes it's nice.

"Hey, I'm curious, how many languages does everyone speak? Personally, I speak English, Gikuyu, and Swahili" Sasha says at the party.

"I speak English and Polish and I know some Latin phrases," Martin says.

"English, German and French for me," Elias says as he sips his wine. Jon isn't entirely comfortable with him there; whilst Elias is perfectly kind, Jon wants to remain professional in front of his boss, more so than in front of his colleagues. Sasha nudges him.

"Oh, I speak English, Latin, Sanskrit, and Tamil," Jon says.

"Wait, why do you speak Latin?" Tim asks him.

"Why not?"

"Right. Well, I speak English and Vietnamese."

"I win, yay," Jon deadpans.

"Seriously, who names their kid 'Lucy Skye Diamond'? That's like asking for them to become a drug-addict, just saying" Tim says in regards to Ms Diamond's statement.

"Marissa and Richard Diamond, apparently," Jon replies. Tim shoots him a glare.

"They didn't give her the middle-name Skye, though. They just named her Lucy. Seems she took that middle-name herself," Sasha points out from her computer. She's currently looking into the police files regarding the disappearance and probable drowning of William Roberts. Well, given that he never emerged from Canston lake, a drowning was very probable. The statement itself did not seem supernatrual, just a woman getting disorientated whilst free-diving, and her brother drowning. Tragic, but painfully normal.

"So what do you think of it, bossman?"

"Someone who readily admits to eagerly trying everything promising to twist the senses is hardly what I'd call a reliable witness."

"Fair point. Though you have to admit the sightings are interesting."

"Yes. I believe we have a statement about one of them, a Mr Reynolds, I think."

"Well we should be able to find it within a decade or so," Sasha quips. They still haven't found Father Burroghs statement.

"It sounds like Mr Vittery suffered a psychosis, and then died. Tragic, yes but not supernatural," Jon says. They've been discussing this for a while.

"He was wrapped up in spiderweb, Jon," Martin replies.

"He was there for a week. There's probably a perfectly natural explanation that doesn't involve  _ ghost spiders _ ."

"Plus, spider silk can be made synthetically," Sasha adds.

"So what, you think he suffered a psychosis, was then murdered and the murderer then encased him in synthetically made spider silk they just happened to have?"

"Probably a stalker who had been planning it for a while, maybe even placed a nest of spiders nearby his flat. And yes, that sounds a lot more believable than  _ ghost spiders _ ." Jon picked up some files. This statement was Sasha's to record. Jon had recorded Ms Popham's statement about her and her sister's expedition into Lost Johns' Cave earlier this morning and was currently doing some minor follow up on another case.

"He was always very careful to stop before he did anything that might get the police involved, and I guess there was enough leftover affection from a childhood spent together that I never really thought about reporting him. It wa- " Jon stops the recording when Rosie opens the door to the office.

"Oh, erm hello Rosie," he says. She smiles at him.

"Hi, Jon. Oh, did I interrupt you?"

"Yes, you did."

"Sorry about that. It's just Elias told me to tell you that a Miss Herne has lodged a complaint"

"Sasha was the one who took her statement, not me."

"I'll go talk to her then. Take care." She gives him a wave.

"Take care." She closes the door behind her as she leaves.

"Statement resumes."

Sasha is reading through Mr Carlisle's financial records, trying to figure out where he got all his meat from when Rosie approaches her.

"Hi, Sasha. Do you have a moment?"

"Uh, yeah, what about?

"Elias told me to tell you that Miss Herne has lodged a complaint."

"A complaint? I was being perfectly polite! I told her that her trauma was valid and suggested therapy," Sasha says.

"Nevertheless, she has lodged a complaint."

"Who's lodged a complaint?" Tim asks from across the room.

"Miss Herne," Rosie responds.

"Ah yes, the grieving woman that Sasha implied was hallucinating. I remember." Sasha glares at him.

"She suggested that it was a hallucination first. Also," she turned to Rosie "you should have kept your equipment in better order or we wouldn't have needed to do the recording in the first place," Sasha defends.

"Regardless, Elias says that he'd prefer it if you didn't antagonize anyone connected to the Lukas family, given that they're amongst the donors," Rosie says.

"Yes, yes, we won't imply that statement givers are hallucinating in the future," Sasha says. Rosie smiles and goes to leave.

"By the way, where's Martin?" She turns back towards them.

"Oh, he's off sick. Stomach bug, I think," Sasha says.

"Aw, poor him. Give him my regards, would you? Bye!" Then she exits the archives, waving at them.

Jon and Sasha are working on a Saturday, planning to record Ms Kelly's statement. It's been a slow week, and this is the only difficult statement they've found. Tim is at home now, and Martin is still sick, though Sasha texted him yesterday that if he's not back or picking up his phone by Monday, she and Tim will break down his door and check on him.

"How about we go out for lunch after recording? Together, I mean," Jon asks Sasha.

"That sounds nice. You ready to record?" He nods as she takes a seat, then turns on the tape recorder.

"Statement of Moira Kelly, regarding the disappearance of her son Robert. Original statement given October 20th, 2002. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London." Sasha takes a breath as she prepares to listen.

"Statement begins." As Jon recites the statement into the whirring tape recorder the familiar feel of eyes staring down her neck starts again and Sasha feels the fear of the statement giver. They've been doing this every week for more than four months, but the feeling is still uncomfortable. She doesn't feel like herself, like Sasha, but like the statement giver. It is part of what makes these statements 'difficult'. She thinks Jon knows it too, but they don't speak of it, having come to a silent agreement that this way is safer. So she sets herself loose in the dread words of Moira Kelly filling the air. "Statement ends." And like that, it's over. She is Sasha James and not Moira Kelly.

"Before we address the central point of the statement, namely the question of… whether the sky can eat people, there are a few other facts that need to be addressed," Jon starts.

"Firstly," Sasha continues, "the company that Ms Kelly states Robert worked for, Open Skydiving, does not exist, and as far as my research can determine, never has. It appears in no company register and has no entries within any of the bodies that deal with the immense number of licences a skydiving business would require. There were one or two news articles from late 2000 that reference events by Open Skydiving, or sometimes the Open Skydiving School, but whatever they were, they were not an officially licensed business, so either they were lying to Robert Kelly, or he was lying to his mother." They continue for a bit, listing what they've been able to dig up. Then Martin bursts through the door holding a bag of a squirming squelching white mass.

"My god! Martin?!" Sasha exclaims.

"What... what the hell is- what are these things?!" Jon asks at the same time.

"Worms. Prentiss. I'd like to make a statement, I think," Martin replies.

Sasha takes Martin's statement. It's unnerving to think that he'd been trapped in his apartment for two weeks, without them knowing. Judging by Jon's expression, he's unsettled too.

"You're sure of this, Martin?" Jon asks when the statement has ended.

"Look, I’m not going to lie to you about something like this, Jon. I… like my job. Most of the time," Martin replies. Jon nods.

"Very well. In which case, there’s a room in the Archives I use to sleep when working late. I suggest you stay there for now. I’ll talk to Elias about whether we can get extra security, but the Archives have enough locks for now. It’s also supposed to be humidity controlled and, though it hasn’t been working for some time, it does mean it’s well-sealed. Nothing will be sneaking through any window cracks," Jon tells him, with a serious mien. Martin flusters.

"Okay… thanks. To be honest, I didn’t, didn’t expect you… to take it seriously," he says. To be honest, it seems a bit excessive to Sasha.

"You say you lost your phone two weeks ago?" Sasha asks him.

"Thereabouts. When I went back to the basement."

"Well, in that time we have received several text messages from your phone, saying you were ill with stomach problems. The last one Jon received said that you thought it 'might be a parasite', though our calls trying to follow up were never answered," Sasha tells him.

"So, if this does involve Jane Prentiss, then I take it deadly seri-" The buzz of Jon's phone interrupts him, "hang on." He reads the message.

"What?" Martin asks.

"I just received another text message. From you. 'Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.'"

"What does that mean?"

"It means we ask Elias to hire some extra security. We should probably warn Tim as well, and have a look through the Archives, as I believe we should have a statement from Ms Prentiss herself in here somewhere," Jon says, rising from his chair, his face hard-set.

"Recording ends," Sasha says and turns of the recorder.

From his office, Jonah watches the three of them talk. He doesn't need to be in on Saturdays, but it's nice, in case something happens. Something like this. The flesh-hive is moving to attack the archives, it seems. A good first test. Jon and Sasha show promise, sure, but if they can't manage a single encounter on their own, it's unlikely they'll survive all fourteen needed. Oh, sure this is a study, but it's always good to keep the applications in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy Skye Diamond comes from Real Trip by Thedupshadove, link here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555783  
> Oh, I mad art for it: https://autumnal-rains.tumblr.com/post/626543618140831745/i-made-art-for-my-fic-image-id-the-image-is-of  
> Good to see you, again, hope you enjoy, please comment if you do!


End file.
